That long in vain I purposed to conceal:
Ingulfed, all help of art we vainly try,
To weather leeward shores, alas! too nigh:
Our crazy bark no longer can abide
The seas, that thunder o’er her battered side;
And while the leaks a fatal warning give
That in this raging sea she cannot live,
One only refuge from despair we find—
At once to wear and scud before the wind:
Perhaps e’en then to ruin we may steer, }